Music
by Hamsta97
Summary: Natasha and Clint always sang together in the mornings. It made Natasha feel like everything was going to be OK. Now Clint's stopped singing and Natasha's determined to get her music and her archer back...


**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers. I'd love to but y'know… I'm British.**

**A/N: Clint sings at breakfast. It makes Natasha think things are going to be alright. He's stopped singing and Natasha's determined to get her music back.**

Natasha looked around. She was in the kitchen of Clint Barton's New York flat. He hadn't killed her two months ago and S.H.I.E.L.D. had deemed her a non-security risk three weeks ago. He'd volunteered to take her to his flat with Coulson saying he'd be dropping by soon. She was cooking, something she loved to do. She heard him humming as he walked through the flat.

"Good morning." Natasha greeted him formally, not thinking of Budapest at all.

"Top o' the mornin' to ya!" he laughed, putting on a fake Scottish accent.

She'd noticed how good he was at faking accents. In Budapest, she'd been convinced he was Hungarian and she didn't make mistakes often.

"How do you like your eggs in the morning?" she asked.

Clint's grin widened and he sang, "I like mine with a kiss!"

She rolled her eyes. "Boiled or fried?"

"I'm satisfied," he crooned, "as long as I get my kiss."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. The words sounded vaguely familiar. _We'll try toast._

"How do you like your toast in the morning?"

"I like mine with a hug."

Natasha stopped herself from yelling at him. "Dark or light?!"

"The world's all right as long as I get my hug."

Then it clicked. He'd played this song last night.

"You're not going to shut up until I hug or kiss you are you?"

Clint shook his head, singing softly, "I've got to have my love in the mornin', or the rest of my day is positively mayhem," a sense of peace was slowly spreading over Natasha, something she was unfamiliar with as he continued; "I'm a regular monster."

She laughed and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. She disentangled herself from him.

_Two weeks later._

Clint could smell the bacon frying in the kitchen. He hadn't been given a mission yet, apparently making sure Natasha didn't kill someone was his mission. That suited him just fine. He'd always sang at breakfast, trying to make some noise in his empty apartment as he made himself a lonely breakfast. Now he had Natasha to sing with him.

"How do you like your eggs in the morning?" she asked, smiling.

"I like mine with a kiss."

"Up or down?"

"I'll never frown eggs can be almost bliss, just as long as I get my kiss."

He smiled, steering her away from the frying pan as he took over.

"How do you like your eggs in the morning?" he crooned.

Her emerald eyes sparkled as she sang, "I like mine with a kiss."

"Boiled or fried?"

He was absurdly happy that she understood. She was laughing as she sang back.

"I'm satisfied as long as I get my kiss…"

Clint returned, "How do you like your toast in the mornin'?"

"I like mine with a hug."

"Dark or light?"

"The world's all right as long as I get my hug."

Clint wrapped his arms around and kissed the top of her head. She kissed his cheek before plating the food up.

_Three months later_

Clint shivered as he landed at the airport. He flew through Immigration and pushed his bags through the entrance. He scanned the faces, eagerly waiting for their loved ones. Phil was there, waiting for him.

"Hey Phil. Are you droppin' me off at my place?"

"Of course."

Clint grinned as he tossed the bag full of clothes into the trunk of Phil's car. The bow and arrows were placed with far more care. He sat in the passenger seat.

"How's Tasha?"

"She's fine as far as I know. I haven't seen her for a few days. I have paperwork too you know."

Clint let out an exaggerated sigh and rested his head on the headrest. Phil pulled up outside Clint's flat and helped the archer carry his bag up the stairs. He noticed how the younger man was favouring one side.

"What did you do?"

"Bullet graze. It's nothing; I'll get Tasha to check it over."

Phil had noticed how Clint had easily slid from 'Romanoff' to 'Natasha' to 'Tasha'. He suspected the Iowan wasn't telling him everything. Clint unlocked the door to his flat and walked in. He closed the door after Phil and opened the door to his room. Natasha was sleeping in his bed.

"Should we wake her?"

"Are you crazy?! No we shouldn't. She looks peaceful. I'll sleep on the sofa. You can get the spare bed."

Phil shrugged and dumped the stuff on the sofa. He slipped into the spare room. It was a tradition they had. After a mission Clint couldn't bear to wake up in an empty flat for some reason so Phil slept in the spare room. He woke up the next morning and walked into the kitchen. Natasha was there, leaning over the boiling eggs.

"How do you like your eggs in the morning?" she asked.

Confused Phil replied, "I'm not bothered."

She turned and smiled. "Sorry. I didn't know you were here. It's a thing me and Clint have."

Phil nodded. "I know. I have seen you do it before, remember?"

She laughed and handed him a plate. He sat down and began to eat. They heard Clint padding down into the kitchen, humming. He opened the door, smiling.

"Say, hey, good-lookin', what ya got cookin'? How's about cookin' somethin' up with me?"

Natasha and Phil glanced at each other. This was new.

"Hey sweet baby, don't ya think maybe we can find us a brand new recipe?"

Natasha laughed. "Clint, what are you talking… no let me rephrase that. What are you singing about?"

Clint laughed. "It's a song by Hank Williams. I'll play it for you."

And he did.

_Six months later_

Clint bolted awake, covered in a cold sweat with the sheets wrapped around his hips. He sighed as he glanced at the clock. Midnight and he'd already woken up twice. Then he heard a soft voice call out.

"Clint? Are you there?"

He flicked the light on and saw Natasha, holding onto the doorframe.

"Hey you. Did I wake you up?"

She shook her head and he looked at her carefully.

"Bad dream?"

She nodded and walked over hesitantly. Clint disentangled himself from the sheets and pulled the blankets aside, letting her scramble in. She blinked up at him and Clint recognised the haunted look, the terror behind her eyes.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he whispered.

Natasha shook her head. Normally she wouldn't even allow someone to see that she could be vulnerable but with Clint it was different. He understood her and made her genuinely laugh. She rested her head against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around hers.

"Shh, I won't let them get you. I promise. Go to sleep baby."

He lay down and pulled her down with him. Clint rested his arm along her back, leaving his hand at the small of her back. Natasha rested her head on his chest. Clint kissed the top of her head.

"Night baby."

He'd never called her 'baby' before but Natasha found she liked it. She heard him fall asleep and she realised that there was a blade peeking out from under the pillow, digging into his neck. He kept a knife under his pillow, the same way she kept a gun under hers. They weren't a couple and they never had sex but from that night on, Natasha slept in Clint's bed.

_Two years later _

Natasha walked through the Helicarrier until she arrived at her handler's office.

"Hi Phil. Am I OK to come in?"

The harassed-looking handler glanced up.

"Yes of course. How's life working for Tony Stark?"

Natasha looked at him in disgust. "He's an idiot. That doesn't even _begin_ to describe my dislike of him. Where's Clint anyway?"

Phil shrugged. "On the roof probably. Or his nest. Pick one and tell him to stop trying to shove rookies off the roof. It's classed as murder and he _isn't_ serving his country."

Natasha laughed and hurried up to the roof. Sure enough the archer was there, his sandy blond hair disorganised, as though he'd ran his hands through it several times.

"Hey Clint."

"Hey good-lookin', what ya got cookin'?"

He paused, waiting for her to react. She continued without hesitating.

"How about cooking something up with me?"

Clint turned, still not happy. "Hey sweet baby…"

"Don't ya think maybe we can find us a brand new recipe?" she laughed as she sat down next to him.

"Phil says you've been in a foul mood for ages."

"So you went to see Phil first."

Natasha sighed. He was being sensitive or was it jealousy?

"Don't be stupid. I thought you might be on a mission so I went to speak to him to make sure you weren't. I missed you."

Clint turned his head. "Did you?"

Natasha recoiled, stung. How could he suggest she didn't think about him everyday?

"Of course I do. What's wrong with you today?"

"I miss my kiss." he murmured.

"Oh Clint… I miss you too. Honestly I do. You believe me, don't you?"

He turned to look at her and she saw his stormy blue eyes were shadowed.

"I don't like not being near you. I like having you in the apartment or the Helicarrier with me. Plus, I think you fancy Tony Stark."

Natasha burst out laughing. "Definitely not. I'd like to put a bullet through his head but for some reason I'm not allowed."

Clint allowed himself a small smile and kissed the top of her head.

_After the battle_

Natasha was cooking eggs in the kitchen when she heard the door open. The others were already there so it had to be Clint.

"How do you like your eggs in the morning?"

"Not bothered." he grunted.

Natasha's heart sank. She turned to look at him and saw his eyes roving all over the place, looking anywhere but her. This continued for some weeks until in the end she almost gave in.

She tried singing. "Hey good-lookin' what ya got cookin'?"

Clint smiled and said, "How about cookin' somethin' up with me?"

"Hey sweet baby," she sang.

"I think I could find us a brand-new recipe."

This continued for a few more weeks but Natasha noticed that Clint never started the singing. One day he walked into the kitchen.

"Hi."

Natasha glanced up. "Hi."

She wasn't cooking and she had no intention of singing. She'd wait for him to start it. Clint moved over to the cooker and flicked the eggs on.

"How do you like your eggs in the mornin'?" he sang.

Natasha grinned, delighted. "I like mine with a kiss."

Tony watched in astonishment as the two master assassins sang an old song together.

"Boiled or fried?"

"I'm satisfied as long as I get my kiss." she returned.

"How do you like your toast in the morning?" sang Clint.

"I like mine with a hug."

"Dark or light?"

"The world's alright, as long as I get my hug."

Clint grinned. Damn, he'd missed singing to her.

"I've gotta have my love in the mornin' or the rest of my day's positively mayhem. I'm a regular monster."

"How do you like your eggs in the morning?"

"I'm satisfied as long as I get my kiss."

"Up or down?"

"I'll never frown, eggs can be bliss, as long as I get my kiss."

Then she stood up and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.

"I love you Clint."

Clint was singing and for Natasha, the world was OK again.


End file.
